


Habits Becoming Destiny

by undercoverasha



Category: Florence + the Machine
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:45:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undercoverasha/pseuds/undercoverasha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Florence joins a convent and finds more than friendship among the Sisters of St. Mary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beliefs Become Thoughts

Florence got off the bus with her bag of belongings. Everything else had been donated, sold, or put in storage. All she had in the world was this bag. Her music player was tucked into the belt around her dress and headphones hung around her neck. She put her bag on the ground, too tired to hold on to it any longer. A tiny woman came from around the corner and bent down to pick it up. She looked at Florence over the top of heart shaped sunglasses and smiled kindly. Florence was awestruck. Her mouth hung open and silent. Bon Iver played loudly from her headphones. The girl picked up Florence’s bag and slung it over her shoulder. Standing up straight, the girl couldn’t have been more than 5 feet tall. “I love Bon Iver” she said. “I’m Isabella but you can call me Isa. I’m supposed to show you to your room and help you get settled in for the evening. Are you ready?” Florence realized she’d been standing there just staring in Isa’s direction without moving for far too long. “Uh, yes. Yeah. I’m uh, yeah I’m ready.” 

 

Florence Welch walked into the sanctuary the first day after moving into the convent. She was shy, like always, using her high heeled shoes for an extra boost of confidence. She looked around and saw Isabella Summers, the sweet girl who had helped her with her bags when she moved in. The girl was so tiny but she was strong and fierce. She had to be a novice because she wore her own clothes. They were modest but still very stylistic. Florence knew that most of what novices wore was donated to the church. That meant they wouldn’t ever get the “latest styles” but rather just the clothes people had thrown out or wanted to get rid of. Somehow, Isa made those old style clothes work for her. Florence tugged at the sleeves of her long dress. The cuffs were tight around her wrists but the rest of the dress was flowing and light. She had requested to sing with the choir but it turned out there wasn’t really a choir so much as there was a couple of nuns who sang while a few others played instruments. Isa played the piano and had mostly taken charge of the instrumentation of the worship songs. Isa saw Florence walk in and called to her “Hey, Flo! I hear you want to sing. Come up here and let’s see what you got.” Florence walked up on the stage. Isa showed her the music they were working on for that week’s service. They were some traditional hymns Florence had learned growing up in the church. “I know most of these.” Florence said, looking over the list. She turned the page over and saw some scribbled notes. “I don’t know what these songs are though.”

A red faced Isa snatched the paper away from Florence. “Those aren’t songs. Those are…notes.”

Florence felt like she should apologize but she wasn’t sure what she had done wrong. She decided to change the subject. “Do you want to hear me sing something first or just start with the top of your list and see how it goes?”

Isa wasn’t really paying attention. “Lets start at the top of the list so I can get an idea about how the sound is going to work and we’ll go from there.” Isa sat at the sound board next to the stage, just behind the piano. She turned on the microphones and speakers. “Ok, Flo we’re starting with Amazing Grace. Do you feel up for starting out acapella and having us join you?” If Isa was trying to get Florence to trip up, it wasn’t going to work.

“Yeah. I can do that.”

“Okay. We’re ready when you are.”

Florence turned toward the microphone and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and began. The first line of the song floated from her throat on a cloud. The harp began to play behind her creating an angelic, ethereal sound that made the sunshine brighter through the stained glass. Isa joined after the first line with deep piano chords. She held the chords long enough to let Florence move and only changed when she did. When they reached the end of the song, they moved together as a unit. It was as though they were meant to play together.

Florence was the first one to break the last chord with a laugh that sounded like bells. “That was amazing!” She was overjoyed and spun around to look at the other players. With her hands clasped under her chin, she looked to Isa for approval. Isa, always reserved, beamed at her. This was going to work out better than expected. They continued through the rest of practice, riffing off each other and exploring new ideas for ancient hymns.


	2. Thoughts Become Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The start of something special.

The priest, Father Robert, must have overheard the joyous noise in the sanctuary because he came in with the reverberations from the final chords. 

“Excellent! Oh that’s just so great!” He said, clapping his hand. “You guys… you’ve really got something special. Hey Florence, I know Isa has always wanted to try some song writing. Do you think if I gave you my sermon ideas for the next few weeks, you might be able to come up with some thing unique for the services?”

 

Florence faltered a little. It was a lifelong dream to write and perform music but she didn’t know Isa very well. For all she knew, this magical connection she felt could be very one-sided. She looked across the stage at Isa behind her piano “Uh…?”

 

“Yeah. Definitely.” Isa started out confidently. She caught Florence’s eyes and something softened, breaking her assurance. “I mean, we could definitely take a look at it.”

There was an awkward look passing between them. Isa was very enthusiastic but Florence wasn’t sure if it was because she wanted to write songs or if Isa wanted to spend time with her. Florence had been drawn to Isa since the moment they met so any chance to get to know this fascinating person was something she’d look forward to.

 

“Great! Okay, you guys wrap up practice and then swing by my office and I’ll get you a list of topics I want to go over.” Father Robert left the room with a spin.

 

Isa couldn’t contain her excitement and neither could Florence. They put away their equipment and rushed off stage, hand in hand, to the priest’s office.

 

List in hand, Florence started to walk back to the sanctuary. Isa hung back. Florence paused, thinking maybe her long stride made it difficult for her tiny friend to keep up but Isa stopped. “Do you really want to write in the sanctuary?” She phrased it like a question but it sounded more like a complaint.

“Where else would we go?” Florence looked around at the stiff, solemn walls of the abbey. All Florence could think of is that she’d never felt more alive or inspired than she had on that stage. Would Isa make them sit in their cells to write? Their rooms in the abbey, while adequate and perfectly comfortable, were lacking in imagination. They were meant to keep distractions down and encourage contemplative prayer. Not exactly ideal song writing space.

 

Isa’s eyes beamed through thick black eyeliner. Somehow the dark lines around her eyes made them shine brighter. “I know just the place.” She grabbed Florence’s hand and pulled her in the direction of the sanctuary. 

St. Mary’s church was laid out so that the abbey was in the back and the church was on the front of the proptery. They were completely separate places and the only space that was shared was the chapel. To get to the rest of the church, one had to go through the chapel. Florence and Isa walked quickly and quietly through the halls of the abbey until they got to the sanctuary. 

“I thought you said you didn’t want to write in here…?”

“This is not our destination!” Isa retorted quickly. They weaved through the pews out the other door and into the church. Eventually, they made their way to a room that could only be a designated “youth group” room. There were posters plastering the walls, piles of books, a desk with stereo equipment and wires coming from everywhere. The place was an absolute mess. The perfect kind of mess that feels completely at home, as though this is a place they were meant to exist.

Florence and Isa sat in tiny folding chairs among the junk. Florence took a few moments to soak it all in. There was a sheet, perhaps a flag, covering the window so the light was tinted as it came in. 

“everything in here looks so hazy and romantic” Florence said with a laugh.

“I love it in here” Isa said, looking around. “It’s the best place in the whole church to think.”

Florence pulled the page Father Robert had given them out and read it aloud.

“Apocalypse, but not in a bad way.” They giggled at the notes. Somewhere in here was an encouraging message that had yet to be written. The priest had a general idea of what he’d talk about but just hadn’t written the finer points.

They talked about the passages and stories that would be covered over the course of several hours. They decided to write it like someone was running from the rapture but didn’t realize it wasn’t a bad thing anymore. She would be safe because all her troubles would be over.

 

On Sunday morning, they performed their song for the first time in front of the whole church. The stage was set up so that Father Robert and Mother Superior were seated on either side of the stage with the altar boys sitting nearest to the priest and the nuns sitting nearest to Mother Superior. Their lyrics had been approved by both Father Robert and Mother Superior but no one had heard the song yet. After opening prayers, Florence and Isa and the rest of the band took the stage. The harp began to play and Florence began to sing, “Happiness hit her like a train on a track…” Florence was nervous but the song itself was relaxing. The first verse went smoothly, no one threw anything or stormed out. So by the time Florence reached the chorus, she let loose a little. 

She had already planned to include everyone on stage in her song whether they liked it or not. She couldn’t help but move when she sang “run fast for your mother, fast for your father, run for your children, for your sisters, and brothers” She jumped around the stage touching Mother Superior, Father Robert, the altar boys, and her fellow sisters, the nuns. Everyone she touched lit up and joined in the song. By the end, everyone was standing and clapping and singing “The dog days are over!” Florence stood in the center of the stage and with her arms stretched wide, face to the ceiling, she said “Thank you!” and took a bow. She sat down with the other sisters, out of breath, but glowing. Father Robert stood up to begin his sermon.

Father Robert tried very hard to maintain the enthusiasm she had built up but sermons about the apocalypse, no matter how positive, can’t compare to the energy she generated on stage. At the end of the service, the nuns and altar boys are dismissed first before the crowd. They walked out in solemn procession until the door to the abbey closed behind them. Isa and Florence interlocked their fingers and squeezed. They had to be quiet in the abbey but they volunteered to help clean the church after the service that day so, fingers intertwined, they ran through the chapel while people were still filing out the back doors to the parking lot, all the way down the halls to the “youth group” room. Florence was a little too enthusiastic and ended up falling all over Isa. They fell to the ground laughing.  
“Oh no!” Florence said between giggles. “Have I hurt you? Oh I’m so sorry!”  
Isa was laughing too. “Hurt me? What about you? You’re the one who fell from three floors up!”

Florence turned to sit on the ground and winced at her knee and shoulder that had taken thr brunt of her fall.

“Oh no, you’re actually hurt?” Isa tried to tend to her fallen friend between fits of giggles.

“No, it’s just my knee. And my shoulder really.” Isa pulled back her clothes to reveal bruises and cuts of various ages on her arms and legs.

“Good god! You are a walking trainwreck! I shall mend you immediately!” Isa said with faux seriousness. She kissed Florence’s knee and then her shoulder. Florence immediately stopped laughing. Their eyes met. They were both still smiling from the incident but something shifted inside them. For Florence, it was her stomach, fluttering away with a million butterflies.

Isa got nervous first and broke the stare. She rested her cheek on the bruised shoulder. “Feel better now?” 

Florence struggled to find her voice. “I can’t tell.” She couldn’t tell because nothing in her whole body felt like anything but Isa’s cheek on her shoulder and the way her hip was situated against Florence’s hip and the way their knees bumped into each other. It was hard to breathe. Her heart was pounding in her chest. It threatened to take over. “Can you hear that?” Florence asked, embarrassed about the sound.

“Hear what?” Isa asked. 

“Never mind. I guess it’s nothing.” Florence said.


End file.
